60 The birth of Mimir (1/2)
Terrick sighed annoyed as he sneaked onto the ship, he shook his neck getting a loud crinkle from it, the ugly and huge doodle on the side of the ship had been the biggest problem that he had faced, having to run all around the town to get someone to invest in his credibility.
The loud words only served to give him an extra job to do, as he had to now not only fill up the ship's coffers but also discourage people from snooping around the gaudy vessel.
After the hitch in his last assignment, Terrick had chosen to return to the ship and cool his head, at first he had thought to seek the advice of his ever-thoughtful captain, but swiftly dispersed the idea, having seen how up to his neck in his own project he was.
The boy had moved the assassin, anyone who said anything to the contrary could only be blind. True he had been an assassin for a long time, but he was used to having no emotions, having emotions when one could not act on them was merely a cripple from his point of view, and so he had gotten used to being unfeeling. But now, in a crew that basically mandated for freedom and agency, he had no choice but to ask himself why all those actions had been easy for him, chillingly so. This thought had not only plagued him, it had also left him feeling uncomfortable and uneasy.
With a tired sigh he looked over at the lone room that stood at the very forefront of the deck, the room was shut closed, mutters echoed from inside as the loud sound of the churning of pages sounded from inside. The captain sounded quite overworked.
On the first day the captain had returned to the ship sporting what looked to be a barrel full of snails, all of them of the transponder variety. Then after that and a few secretive calls, he had revamped the captain's quarters into what looked like a dungeon.
Snails stood on every pedestal, each with a name and a colored string leading them toward another one. These would at their end connect to what looked to be a hand drawn map of the different blues. Each island was seemingly allotted a color and each informant a name, though what all this implied, Terrick had not enquired and Lore had not seen important enough to inform to anyone on the crew, save for Fawkes.
Unfortunately, the threads seemed to be restricted to the North blue and a little to the West blue. A single island to be precise. The different unused snails so far had then been organized to where they go and placed in a makeshift reserve, where they had an abundance of leaf and a large enough field that it would not be too congested to be in.
The captain had been receiving information every day, and had been using different colored binders and what looked to be a weirdly foreign language to codify the information in. Terrick had been told that each of these binders were ordered on date, and held even the most trivial of information.
With that thought and a deep sigh he trudged below deck to the cabin before piling onto a hammock and snoring away…
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I sighed for the umpteenth time as I looked at the binder that stood before me, it housed all the information I had received of Doflamingo's family- The Donquixote family, and I had to admit, however much of an arrogant blowhard he was, he was at least as cunning.
Had he not died back then, then I was sure that the crew and my head would have come under a special type of gunning, not like the dogged persistence that the marines employed to follow most pirates, it was more of a level of persistence that one would associate with an emperor.